


A Simpler Mission

by actualshonenprotagonist



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Anal Sex, BDSM, Butt Plugs, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Rope Bondage, commander!armin, dom!armin, really fluffy kinky sex, trans!eren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 16:04:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8108707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actualshonenprotagonist/pseuds/actualshonenprotagonist
Summary: On the battlefield, Armin plans and Fate laughs, but Fate has no control in the bedroom. Eren needs to be reminded of his usefulness, and Armin needs his plans to work out.





	

Armin exudes tension, Eren notes as they bring their respective plates to a table in the mess hall. It's been a rough few weeks. An expedition with too many casualties, trouble in the interior, and a large pile of letters of the “Commander Arlert regrets to inform the relatives of so-and-so that he/she/they has given the ultimate sacrifice” variety have been taking their toll on the youngest Commander of the Scouting Legion. After shovelling down a few bites to take the edge off, Eren observes the tightness at the corners of the slighter man's mouth, the seeming fragility of his wrists. Armin's plate is a study in by-the-book nutrition-- the meat stew, boiled potatoes, and soupy greens are in exactly the correct proportions for his body and activity level, but it doesn't seem to be making it to his mouth.

“You're staring,” the blond points out.

“Can't help it. You're Commander Pretty Boy, brilliant and beautiful.” There's a hint of redness in Armin's cheeks at the nickname, and a minute softening of the tense lines. Eren inches his sleeve up to reveal a glimpse of black leather and green flannel at his wrist. “D'you need--” he says quietly.

“You're an ass,” Armin says firmly. “But yes. Make sure you finish those potatoes, you'll be burning a lot of calories.” Anticipation causes a rush of slick in Eren's pants.

“Planning to put me through my paces, Commander?” he says with a grin. His response is a more noticeable flush of red and the blond deliberately turning his attention to the food in front of him. Armin eats methodically, carefully. Good.

His teasing ignored, Eren goes back to shoving food in his mouth, eager to get back to their quarters.

Armin's hands are on him as soon as the door is locked, palming down generous hips and grabbing handfuls of the larger man's ass. Eren does not disappoint, gasping into Armin's hair as he's pressed against the door and remembering just in time not to touch. He whines Armin's name instead.

“So noisy for me--” Armin whispers, nuzzling into Eren's neck. Eren keens at the contact. “I've asked you not to tease me in public.”

“No one else t-teases you anymore,” Eren stammers out. “'N you start hinting how you're gonna wreck me-- ”

“I did no such thing.” Another cry from Eren as a slender thigh comes up and slowly grinds against the bulge in his white uniform pants. “I simply reminded you to eat properly. Your filthy mind did the rest.”

“F-fuck, Armin. You know -exactly- what you do to me.”

“Of course.” A hand slides down the front of Eren's trousers, sneaking past the padding to stroke his arousal. “I know you. I know what'll make you squirm. I know what'll make you gasp--” There is demonstration. “I know what'll take you apart and put you back together.”

Armin has never given much thought to touching himself. His night-time groping sessions with Eren during their trainee years taught him that while being touched is nice, he prefers the satisfaction of seeing and feeling Eren coming apart under his hands, the power trip of commanding the stronger boy's responses. Eren has grown since then, not as much as Armin height-wise, but broad-shouldered and well-muscled where Armin has stayed slender. Armin shifts Eren's jacket collar out of the way and nips along the exposed skin, revelling in the way Eren's powerful body shudders and submits.

“Strip,” Armin commands, pulling away.

Eren nearly falls, legs already wobbly from Armin's attentions. Breathing heavily, he finds a chair to drape his jacket over, then fumbles through buckles and boots and buttons until he's bare apart from the leather cuffs on his wrists and his key on its dingy cord around his neck. The cuffs are padded, lined with soft flannel in direct contradiction to the sturdy metal hardware and Eren's healing ability-- what Eren needs from this is restraint, not more pain. It's another way that they prove to each other that Eren is more than his tactical value as a titan-shifter. Submitting to Armin because Armin needs the control lets him feel useful as himself, along with the comfort brought on by restraint. Eren can't destroy things when he's bound and at Armin's mercy. His powers are irrelevant and he's not required to do anything other than exist as Armin's plaything.

“Anything in particular you had in mind?” Eren asks.

“Can I tie you?”

“Fuck yes.” Green eyes shift downward, oddly shy when it comes to specifics. “Could you.. uh...”

Armin distracts him by drawing a finger down over Eren's chest, gently caressing his nipple. “Could I what?”

“F-fuck. Me. Uh.. my ass. Want it.”

The blond boy bends down to follow his finger with his mouth, suckling briefly before coming back up. “Greedy brat. If you're good for me, I'll fuck you.” 

Armin turns to the dresser, rummages through one of the drawers, surfacing quickly with a coil of soft rope, a jar of salve, a small cloth bag, and the sheep-gut condom. (Their lives are too dangerous to risk Eren getting pregnant, regardless of which hole they use.) Eren lets out a shaky breath, hand creeping toward his clit. The cloth bag thumps on the bed, along with the jar and the condom. “No touching, that's my job.” Armin holds the rope taut between his hands as Eren's hand jerks away. “Arms out.” The mid-point of the rope is threaded through the metal loops on his cuffs and the ends pulled through, and Eren's wrists are pulled together as the rope is tightened. “Arms up over your head and back.” Eren obeys. His shoulders are bendier than most, so his bound hands are able to dangle easily behind his neck. The rope is smoothed around his chest, looped around itself, smoothed back in the other direction, then knotted 'round the loop between his wrists again, drawing a gasp as his shoulders stretch. He makes an excellent picture, his muscular torso pulled long and vulnerable. Armin finishes off the tie and indulges himself by running his hands down Eren's chest, stomach, giving his clit a firm stroke before pushing Eren toward the bed with a gentle command of “Bend over and hold still.” 

Eren follows the simple instructions, his mind already floating a bit. He knows that resting his elbows and chest on the bed puts his ass on display for Armin's appreciative viewing, and this combined with the way the rope across his chest pulls with each squirm makes him ever more impatient and eager, slickness collecting between his thighs. He can't see the jar of salve being opened, but he can feel the slender finger that slides between his cheeks, nudging itself inside and drawing more sounds from his throat. It hasn't been long since the last time he was penetrated, so he adjusts quickly to the stretch and tries to rock back to get the finger deeper. Armin swats Eren's ass and clicks his tongue to remind his boy that he's not supposed to be moving, then adds a second finger.

“F-fuck, Armin...” Eren is fighting a losing battle to keep from fucking himself on Armin's fingers, trying to obey the command to hold still but desperate to feel something moving inside him.

“Shh, you're doing so well. So slick and messy for me.” Armin's other hand skates delicately down Eren's spine and ribcage, dancing meaningless symbols over tanned skin that leave Eren gasping and whimpering, completely unable to hold still as a third slick finger joins the two already slowly working him open. Armin's request for stillness has everything to do with watching Eren's self-control get overridden by Armin's skillful ministrations.

“M'ready, Armin, please, need it so bad,” he moans. 

Armin leans over him and nips at his wrist. “So impatient--” 

All three fingers retreat, and Eren keens from the loss. He feels something smooth, hard, and tapered work its way in, well slicked to ease the way. “Yessss...” It's probably the glass plug they'd had made.

Armin admires the way Eren's ass wraps eagerly around the blue-green glass of the plug. He plays with it, thrusting in and out to stretch and tease Eren further, enjoying the whimpers and gasps it draws and the sense of power over Eren's body and responses. Satisfied that Eren is well and truly stretched, he pushes the plug fully in, then plants a wet, messy kiss to the small of his back. “Turn over, I want to see you.”

He's able to maneuver himself onto the bed, squirming as the plug moves, and forgetting himself briefly to rock it against some sensitive nerve endings. Pupils nearly black, a flush reaching down to his chest, Eren is a sight. Armin climbs over him, having shimmied out of most of his clothing while Eren was on display, one hand immediately going to the slick hardness between Eren's legs while he mouths at Eren's neck, sucks marks over his collarbones where they'd be visible tomorrow if it weren't for Eren's healing factor. Eren's legs come up to wrap around Armin's waist nearly of their own volition, and Armin grabs the back of Eren's knees, pushing them out of his way as he dives down between tanned thighs. Eren screams at the first touch of Armin's mouth on his clit, licking and sucking at the hard nub. Armin plays for a bit, enjoying the noise and the squirming, stroking with his fingers and thrusting the plug in further when his tongue starts to tire. Eren has probably come already, but he's flying so high on the stimulation that he's not sure and Armin isn't done with him.

“So pretty like this,” Armin whispers, licking at the tears that have started to spill down Eren's cheeks. “Fuck, you're gorgeous. You want me to fuck you?” Eren nods. “Can you use your words?” Eren shakes his head. Armin backs off, pulling his undershorts down enough that his cock springs out and sliding the condom down over it. “Come show me how much you wanna get fucked.” Eren moans, pulling himself up to sitting in an elegant display of abdominal strength, and shuffles over to Armin on his knees. Armin quickly slicks salve onto the condom, then reaches for Eren's ass to remove the plug, taking advantage of the closeness to lick at the sensitive spots on Eren's neck. “Ready?” Eren nods, already trying to sit on Armin's cock. The blond man chuckles at his lover's desperation before steadying the member, groaning at the heat and tightness as Eren's body takes him in greedily. It's safer for Eren to be on top when he's non-verbal, and damned if Armin doesn't appreciate the view. Speaking of the view-- 

“How are your shoulders? Are they getting tired?” Eren rocks on the hard member inside him, rutting himself against Armin's belly. He nods, then slumps forward so the blond can untie him. Shaking hands undo the knots and twists, smoothing sore joints as they go, tossing the rope aside and leaving the cuffs in place. Eren catches Armin's lips in a kiss before leaning back on his hands and riding his cock, alternating between long thrusts and shallow grinding and letting out delicious gasps and moans. Armin lets him enjoy this brief taste of power before grabbing hold of Eren's ass and keeping it steady while thrusting up in his own rhythm. “Little-- brat--” he grunts. He's close. “Can you come one more time?” Eren grinds down into Armin's thrusts, face scrunched with effort. His thigh muscles are spasming. Armin reaches between them for Eren's clit, giving it long hard strokes that match his thrusts. Eren's inner walls clamp down as he sobs, hips jerking as he comes again, and then Armin is coming as well, filling the condom. They stay like that while they wait for their breathing to return to normal.

Eren gives his hips one last twist, grinning lazily at Armin's face before sliding off of his cock. The condom is delicately placed next to the buttplug on the dresser to be rinsed out later. “C'n I hug you?” Eren asks. Armin nods. They'll need to clean up at some point, and Armin still has paperwork to do, but for now they can stay wrapped around each other on the messy unmade bed.

On the battlefield, Armin plans and Fate laughs. One of his ancient tactical manuals bears the insistence that “no plan survives contact with the enemy”, and Armin's experience has done nothing but support this. Regardless of his rank, he has no control over whether the people under his command live or die once they are in the positions he has marked on a map, and it terrifies him. He has been at the center of a plan gone awry more than once. Certain things will still force the terror to resurface, leaving him shaking.

Off the battlefield, the door is locked and there are no variables beyond the two of them. Eren removes Fate from the equation when he allows Armin full control over his body and reactions. “Wreck Eren” is a mission Armin has done many times, in many ways, and one he'll never tire of experimenting with. The price of failure here is gentle kisses and whispered apologies instead of blood and death and emotional turmoil. It is a relief to have so little at stake.


End file.
